


Turrón

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Collations [9]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Will Graham's Baggage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 03:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: Then the lab went to hell in a very familiar way. Eddie went missing, and Catherine was not doing well, and there was an investigation on who was in the driver's seat, and by the time a double had turned into napping on the sofa and almost a triple, Greg was looking a little wired, Will was feeling wired, and the lying bitch with the broken arm had tried to frame a dead man for a car accident.





	Turrón

The thing with night shift was that they were consistently tapped out. And with the end of classes, his twenty hours had nudged up a little closer to thirty, which was fine because he was bored during the summer. Summer was when he thought about stupid things, and there was still plenty of time for early morning fly fishing failures at the creek. Such as it was. Lake Mead was a little drunken partier in the summer for good fly fishing, even at the best spots. 

Which was how, he guessed, he found himself accompanying Brass to a bordello. Or whatever it actually was, but the body in the foam the night before had been fascinating, and Al reminded him of Jimmy in those moments, bright and sharp and catty.

At the very least, it would have to be an honestly entertaining experience. He had been a lot of places, but never a place like this. Working with the Las Vegas crime lab was a great deal more entertaining than working homicide, and it certainly wasn't as painful as running around as _Jack Crawford's Crime Gimp_ had been.

"Tell me how this place operates, again?" Given that they were at least one victim in who worked at the place, and the team, according to all of them, were well familiar with Lady Heather.

Brass shrugged. "There's no sex involved, at least none that can be proven. Mostly, it's just people paying to be humiliated from what I can work out. You should see the pool house."

"I assume there isn't a pool in the pool house, and that's why it's so fascinating." Humiliation and no sex sounded very familiar, though he knew there were people who got off on beating, being beaten, all of that, he'd, oh, it was going to be a rough case, Will knew, because he was really enjoying sex for sex's sake.

Finally enjoying sex for sex's sake, and that was something that he didn't want to have to explain. He got why people would get off on the things they were going to see; he got it far too much, in fact, horrifyingly too much, and he didn't want to admit as much. "Yeah, last I checked, there wasn't any water if there was a pool. In fact, I'm pretty sure they were doing things in the pool that weren't meant to be witnessed by man or woman."

He shrugged at Jim drove, watching the streets, remembering where it was. "It's intimacy without the risk. Intellectually, I can see the appeal."

That was an interesting arch of eyebrow. "Yeah, well. The appeal is one thing. Paying for it is something else altogether."

"I don't know what you consider a divorce, then," Will joked, returning the eyebrow lift.

Brass seemed to consider that for a long moment as he parked the car. He smirked then, and nodded. "Yeah. You've got a point. I should introduce you to my ex-wife. Seriously."

"I've met enough mean-spirited crazies in my life." He looked ahead on the street they were heading down, and could tell right away which house they were headed to. Nothing said palace of kink like a house that could have been used to shoot the Addams family.

Before they could even knock, the door opened. The woman there was dark and exotic and Will thought he would likely be willing to kneel for a woman like that if he still knelt. "Captain Brass. How lovely to see you. I do hope it isn't official business."

Brass cleared his throat. "I'm afraid official business is exactly what this is."

As it was, Will felt his chest twist a little, and clutched his hand tightly around his kit. "One of your employees was found dead. Trey Buchman."

"He'll be missed." It was said with a face that didn't crack, betrayed no emotion. "He was an excellent worker."

"And do you know Croix Richards as well? We were waiting for his employment record to come back, but..." Will tilted his head slightly. It was a guess, from the build the men had. They were gorgeous, not really functionally muscled, though.

"Is he in some kind of trouble?" She knew, though. She could tell, and Will knew it, too.

"Dead. They were prostituting themselves. Would you like to talk about this inside, ma'am?" Will didn't glance over at Brass, didn't check that he was doing what the other man expected.

"Of course. Come right in, gentleman." She opened the door and allowed them to pass her by, then closed the door behind them. "I have to say that whatever they were doing on their own time, they certainly never prostituted themselves while doing business for my Dominion. They were independent contractors. I profit from the theatre of sex, not from the act itself. A fine distinction, I do admit, but a distinction all the same."

"What did they do for you?" And who did they have in common between them? Will could feel questions bubbling up in his mouth, things he needed to know. Wanted to know, and Brass was letting him ask them.

With careful steps, she moved past them, one hand indicating that they should follow. It was a distracting walk, with all sorts of interesting things going on in every room with an open door. Once they reached the pool house, it became obvious that there was a pool; it was just being used for other things.

Lady Heather proceeded past the pool and didn't slow down until she reached a door that should have led to the outside. Instead, it led to a long hallway with doors on either side. "Lady Heather's Dominion is also my domain. Mr. Buchman and Mr. Richards were quite the favorites in my online endeavors."

"Video kink on demand," Will said, taking a step forward. "Did they have a room that was theirs? Leave any equipment here?"

"Everyone works in shifts here. They were most often in the two rooms at the end of the hall, although all of my operatives do have their own computer systems. You are more than welcome to take any equipment they used so long as it will be returned at some point in the future."

As if it could be just that easy. "Well," Brass said, "that's great. That's fantastic, so I'm guessing you're sure that we'll find nothing probative on any of 'em."

"We're not looking to bring charges," Will reminded him, "but to see if they shared a customer, maybe. Someone who wanted them both dead. Thank you, ma'am."

"You're more than welcome." A demure kind of answer, although her eyes were sharp and tight on him. "Although perhaps you could introduce yourself to me before you do take things into evidence. I have, of course, met Captain Brass already."

"CSI Graham." Will didn't offer his hand to shake, just gestured with his head. "Down at the end, then?"

The slow curve of that amazingly red mouth made him shiver in a way somewhere between pleasurable and unpleasant. "Of course."

He started past the hall of doors, not lingering, not looking. He didn't need to take his time and peer at them in curiosity, the sounds were more than enough. Over exaggerated moans, orders to get down and lick an imaginary pair of boots, phone sex with glossy latex visuals. He'd bag their gear, and then move on to their computers.

He worked for a while, moving around quietly. One place he didn't want to be seen was definitely in an online porn video, no matter who saw it. Brass's voice was quiet and steady, but no less so than Heather's. their conversation was just at the edge of his awareness, and that was good for him. It gave him something grounding while he worked.

Low, dull, buzz as he took photographs, bagged, photographed, bagged, working methodically. Nothing felt like it was going to jump out at him, and he knew it was going to be in their online records, their customers. No one had come into the building to hurt them, and if they'd gone to anyone it had been out... no. No. Will hesitated, holding a leash in a gloved hand and staring for a moment as he turned to look at them both. "Brass, we're going to need to come back with a warrant. We need their customer records. I think we have an angry submissive."

The faintest twitch of dark brows, a barely seen up-tilt of red lips, and Will knew that he had her attention and her interest. "You know the lingo."

Why was it that no one ever seemed to show interest in him until he was involved?

"There's no answer I can give that won't cross into too much information territory." He finished bagging the leash, Croix's properly. No collar, that was telling. The people he played with brought their own, but there might be trace on the leash if it was used, if he'd used anything on his most recent games and been a bad cleaner. Will looked up at her. "And we'll need their computers, if they left them here."

"Of course." Just matter of course, and a gesture of her wrist brought a pretty girl with a frothy pink boa wrapped around her neck into the room. "Chloe will assist you in finding anything that you need."

Will shifted up from his careful crouch, holding the big brown paper bag of potential evidence. "Thank you, ma'am. Chloe, I need the computers that Croix and Trent used."

"Of course." Timid, tiny voice. Will had never been that kind of person, had never wanted to sleep with that kind of person, either. "Should I help you, or just...?" Or just.

Just shoo, and that was gentler than what he wanted to say. "If you could point them out to me. Unless they're decorated with sparkly name stickers..."

"Oh, no, they would never." Of course not. It was probably all black leather and brass studs or something, because some people felt the need to express their dominance in visible and highly masculine ways. The urge to roll his eyes was something he fought off, and Brass was still talking to Lady Heather, which left him alone with a woman who seemed to think a doe-eyed expression was enough to make him... he had no idea.

Mostly, it made him want to go home and teach Greg new and amazingly hot things, but he didn't want to scare him off.

He did want to take him home, and had offered if they could get their schedules to align, though, which was... Good, easier to concentrate on than Bambi. She sashayed? Wobbled? Swung her hips in open un-seductive seduction towards an unused room where there were three laptops and a canvas-sized picture selection of backdrops against the wall.

"They keep their things here when no one is using the room. We don't lock them up; they all belong to Lady Heather, and everyone is very particular about not touching anyone else's things," she offered, biting her lower lip.

"I imagine they would be." He stood in the doorway for a moment, letting himself feel the room, taking it all in. Nothing untoward there, nothing out of the ordinary for the room. "Which computers are theirs?"

"The ones there and there." Chloe pointed to them, careful to stay away from touching anything. It wasn't much of a shock; she wouldn't be fetching and carrying for the lady of the house if she couldn't sense what someone wanted and act on it with near immediacy.

Pair that with the jacket that said CSI, and Will knew he screamed law enforcement. He photographed them carefully, grabbed bags, and just as carefully slipped them into paper bags that he sealed. "Thank you."

"Sir." Yeah, he needed out of there. Needed to get out, go home, and do... something. Anything but this. "May I serve you further?"

God, no.

"No." He flashed his teeth at her, and tried not to say that she was barking up the wrong tree, that he was so hysterically far from dominant and far from sub, that he was crazy and whatever she was picking up was wrong wrong wrong, echoes of other voices. "But thank you." He preferred to juggle evidence and kit all by himself, standing up to rejoin Brass and Lady Heather in the hall.

They were still talking, a bit of back and forth, and they seemed to be wrapping up the conversation. Will didn't particularly care, just wanted to be done, and so he bypassed them slightly, head tilting as he passed them.

"...so yeah, we appreciate the cooperation. We really do."

"Brass? I have everything I need right now." He smiled to lady Heather, brief acknowledgement.

Heather tilted her head. "If there's anything else I can do, don't be afraid to call. Or come to tea, for that matter."

Brass cleared his throat. "Yeah, we'll, uh. Keep that in mind."

"Thank you for your cooperation." An interesting piece of information to tuck away, and he took the lead on the way out, back through the pool house and past the pig.

Oink oink.

Getting out of that house made the world open up again, meant he could get a good breath, could feel his chest expand. It was better.

It was... Yeah.

He turned to look at Brass, knowing that his expression was one of open relief as the other man popped open the back door for him to load the evidence in. "That was... interesting."

"Yeah, interesting is one thing to call it, anyway." Brass shook his head. "Gotta admit. That visit was pretty special, even after the last one. You should ask Greg about that one."

"Hmn, I will." He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "She's no doubt very good at being a dominatrix."

That laugh said it all. "Let's just say I can't imagine anybody who wouldn't want to kneel if she asked in just the right way."

He felt himself grinning, and added, "Oh, even the wrong way. No remorse for her staff, though. Didn't even fake it."

"It's a hard world," Brass mused. "Everybody's gotta live in it."

"I'm not criticizing. It's nice to run into people who aren't faking their emotions." He shrugged, leaned back from the car, and shut the door. "Back to the lab, then."

"Back to the lab," Brass agreed, sliding behind the wheel, and that was that.

It was amazing to have coworkers who just didn't ask questions.

~*~*~*~

Then the lab went to hell in a very familiar way. Eddie went missing, and Catherine was not doing well, and there was an investigation on who was in the driver's seat, and by the time a double had turned into napping on the sofa and almost a triple, Greg was looking a little wired, Will was feeling wired, and the lying bitch with the broken arm had tried to frame a dead man for a car accident.

The murder was still just outside of his reach, but they'd get there.

"Too much coffee. Way too much coffee," Greg mused in the break room doorway. "I need antacid." Yeah, Will could understand that. He was sleepy, but his own stomach was faintly annoyed from all the coffee. Maybe they should both eat something.

"When do you wrap up?" He rubbed at his eyes, trying not to feel crusty and scrunchy. "I only have aspirin."

Yeah. That grin was still much too charming, even caffeine-wired and on the verge of too-tired. "I don't think aspirin will help. Probably not too good for your stomach, either. All things considered. I'd offer pastries, but I'm pretty sure that they don't deliver, and I... I don't think either of us are up to making a trip out for much of anything at all."

"I have cold pizza and cupcakes at home." He leaned his arms on the table, and scruffed his hands through his hair. "Which isn't as appealing as pastries."

Long, heavy sigh. "I might offer marriage for cold pizza and cupcakes right now." Sweet thought.

"Yeah." And Catherine had lost her ex-husband, which was weird, and he was tired, and fuck. "You want to come over?" At least they didn't report back until the next night.

"Ohhh." That was highly interested. "To your place? Exciting."

The edges of his mouth twitched a little, and he glanced up at Greg. "Probably less exciting than you expect, but after the last two days? Junk food and dogs is pretty good."

"Wow..." He was kind of lit up, excited. "I get to meet the dogs. I feel a little like I should go home and get spiffied up. Like meeting parents except less terrifying."

Will grinned, and waved to Nick as he walked in closer. "Oh, I think my father's less judgmental than Mal. Ultimately. Hey, Stokes. You calling it a day, too?"

"Yeah, man." He looked at least as wiped out as Will felt. "It's been a hell of a few days. I'm glad it's my long weekend. Too bad for you guys who've gotta come back."

"Are you kidding?" Greg snorted. "We're due back in, what? Six hours? And I don't know about everybody else, but there's no way that's happening. I'm gonna call and see if I can get Henry to come in instead."

"My place," Will reiterated, starting to stand up. "I'm used to working shitty hours. I'll drive."

Nick laughed. "I've seen Greg driving practically asleep."

"Yeah," Greg agreed. "But I don't have to tonight, because I'm going home for cold pizza, cupcakes, and warm fuzzy puppies."

"Who will like you," Will agreed, fishing his keys out of his pockets. He'd reached the cusp of his limit, and instead of going soaring right over it, they were stopping. There was something amazing about that. "Night, Stokes."

Wave of a hand from Nick by way of acknowledgment. "Night."

That was easy, too, and Greg waved in Nick's direction and followed Will out. There were waves and murmurs of goodbyes, and then they were out the door and into the afternoon light. "God, I... really am not ready for the afternoon light. I'm not supposed to see this time of day."

"Not unless it's between classes." That wasn't until fall, though, and summer stretched out before them, promising heat and crazy. Will put his sunglasses on, and started to arrow toward his SUV, Greg right behind him.

The locks gave a chunk of sound as they came undone, and Greg slid into the passenger seat at the same time as Will closed his door. "If I fall asleep on the drive to your place, just... you know. Reach out and smack me."

"Mmm, when we get there. You need the sleep." Will kept the radio on, though, sound low, to keep himself awake when he started to pull out of the parking lot. "I'm still not sure when I became the crunchy yuppie who tries vegan cupcakes."

"Vegan cupcakes?" Greg seemed to seriously consider that. "My grandparents had this neighbor who was vegan. She and her husband ate this stuff that I swear to god looked like dog food. I'm not sure if I find the promise of vegan cupcakes something interesting or something terrifying."

"Mmm, or you can let me know when we try them. The frosting is good, at least. The pizza is corporate salt and grease deliciousness, though." He drove carefully, with the conscientiousness of either a tired man or a drunk, but at least he was going the speed limit on the way out.

Greg yawned and settled himself more comfortably. "I'm not discounting the possibility that the cupcakes might be delicious. Just consider me as suspicious due to experience."

"Between New York and California, you've probably seen every weird food trend in the book." Will watched Greg close his eyes while he coasted up to a stop light. He was content to drive, to let his mind mull around on nothing in particular after the last couple of exhausting days. It was a relief that the entire building had seemed to suck in a deep breath and then waved the white flag of surrender. There was no Jack with his misplaced concern, no one chiding him on one hand for not resting and then slapping him for not working harder in the next breath.

He still wished there was more he could do for Catherine, but it was hard to un-drown someone.

"Mmm." That hum of sound was low, thoughtful. "Had a roommate in New York who was from Alabama. Like. Deep in Alabama. I'm pretty sure that the best thing ever was all of the insane fried goodness that was staying with her folks over Thanksgiving."

"The joys of the south. Fried peppers, twice fried chicken, fried Oreos are actually pretty good. I still miss good Po-Boys. I never learned to cook New Orleans food. Just to make faces when it doesn't taste right."

The startled laugh was nice. "Fried Oreos? Okay, I don't believe that." Probably not, but Will grinned and turned on his blinker.

"Does Nevada have a state fair? That's where you'll find fried Oreos," Will decided, keeping his eyes on the road. "I'd try it at home, but I'm bad at frying things."

"Or we could always..." Greg trailed off and bit his lip, ears flushing, the color sneaking into his cheeks "Yeah, maybe it's too early for shared vacation plans to crazy Southern places. Bet we could ask Darius. Pretty sure if you can fry something, he could do it. Or call his mom, because I'd bet she could. For that matter, she'd probably come just for that."

"I've only seen your neighbors peeking through their windows," Will pointed out. "I should just stand outside the window sometime and manically wave."

Yeah, laughter was good. Greg made him feel so much better than he had in a long time, made him feel... maybe stable. More stable, anyway, which was saying something. "Yeah, he'd just assume his dad sent you and start lobbing stuff out the window."

"I'm shitty at dodging things." He kept his eyes on the road, trying not to count stoplights.

"Then maybe I should just introduce you the next time that we go by my place. I'm pretty sure I can pin them down eventually. Sam teaches at UNLV and Darius works at the lab so we're usually just crossing paths these days, but... for fried Oreos?" Yeah.

"For fried Oreos that don't end in third degree burns. What's Sam teach?" Will focused, stretching his left leg, and then relaxing as the roads turned vastly familiar, humming little voice of home home home in the back of his head.

Greg shifted beside him, getting comfortable again. "Anthropology. Apparently, pre-history is the most awesome thing ever. He hates the department head, but he doesn't like much of anybody so it's not that much of a shock."

"Wait." Will drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment. "Wait. Sam.... I know this Sam. I... would not have guessed he was gay."

Yeah, Not even close, because he mostly sat in his office or the campus cafeteria, drinking tea and looking broody. He'd seen a few of the students eyeing him like he was god, but most of them made sour, angry faces, which implied so many things. "Yeah, well. You should meet Darius. He makes up for it."

"No, I now know that Sam has hidden depths. And anger, probably, but that's..." He grinned. "It's nice to be _told_ stuff about people I've met." He turned down his street, playing dodge the parked car for a bit until the traffic cleared.

That phrase caught his attention. "Told as opposed to... what? Somebody expecting you just to guess?" Greg shook his head. "Nah, although I'd usually say that Sam's face says it all."

"Sam's face says he's never getting laid, Greg." Will coasted in to his driveway. "I suppose... I used to look at everyone like a criminal. Weighing everything I could see, reconstructing the evidence."

"Nice house." Greg peered around, curiosity marked clearly on his face "Yeah, Sam probably didn't get laid that much before Darius. He was doing this cultural anthropology thing in Mississippi when they met and apparently nearly got himself lynched."

"I wonder who he pissed off." He parked carefully, turned the car off, and made sure he had his phone, keys, Greg shuffling along sleepily to get out, too. "Did Darius save him?"

"Mmm." Long stretch, and Will couldn't help watching and enjoying it. "Yeah. From his dad, actually, who is apparently the local.... I have no idea. Grand Dragon, whatever. I'm pretty sure finding out a Jewish cultural anthropologist was tapping his son drove him right over whatever fragile edge the guy had."

He could imagine that edge crumbling, under the weight of any particularly strenuous activity, and Will smiled as he reached into the backseat to snag his bag and Greg's. "And now the student idolization makes so much more sense. That..." He dug for a word as he juggled to get his front door keys in hand. "That's ballsy."

"Can't deny that." Yeah, but Greg was peering around, highly interested. "Here, I can take the bags. Or the keys, whichever you like."

The best thing about the desert so far had been that his lawn could look shitty as hell because it was just raked dirt, sand, and some decorative gravel with succulents. The dogs didn't care about the ground cover out back as anything other than something to dig up and lay on. "I'm stubborn." He ended up with one on his wrist, but he got the key in, and then it was quick work.

The dogs were waiting on him, happily panting and wriggling, tails wagging until they saw Greg. Then Mal decided growling was the way to go, and Andora and Winny were just looking at them, curiosity all over them. "Oh, hey, buddy. I'm sorry," Greg offered, and then knelt down and offered his hand for sniffing.

"Mal, be good." It wasn't scolding, but even, firm, as he carefully closed the door behind them. Hand sniffing usually worked, though.

It seemed to be a pretty good day for it, in any case, and Mal seemed to accept Greg after a minute. That seemed to be a signal for Andora, who promptly squirmed her way closer and decided that licking Greg seemed like a great idea. "They're adorable."

"My pack of former strays." Will crouched down, scruffing fingers gently though Mal's ruff. "Yeah, you're just a big scared sweetie, aren't you? Yeah... Okay, out time, and snacks before sleep."

That got all of them excited and headed for the door to the yard. Greg's jaw cracked on a yawn. "You've got a nice place. I like the openness of it."

"Took me three months to find it." Will rubbed fingers over the back of his neck. "Worth every moment I spent squatting in a motel until then. You want to grab the pizza out of the fridge?" He was focused on letting the dogs out. They had a doggy door, but somehow it wasn't the same as the big door, which felt like a bigger event. Somehow.

Dogs were funny creatures like that, and Will could respect the need for something to be an Event.

By the time he had shut the door behind them, Greg was deep in his refrigerator, looking at things with curiosity. "Seriously, the organization in here makes me feel bad letting you see the chaos I live in."

"It gives more room to backslide when I get overwhelmed," he half joked, turning away from the door.

He really needed to take the pictures off the fridge door.

Greg being Greg, he didn't mention them. Instead, he sat the cold pizza box on the island and opened it, settling into a bar stool as he delved inside. "I'm starving." Clearly, because he had a mouthful in very short order.

That non-reaction was a relief, and Will rubbed tired fingers over his eyes as he pulled up a barstool to sit beside Greg. "I'd suggest coffee, except that might be counter productive. Can't drink, we're going back in too soon."

"Got milk?" Yeah. That might even be kind of reasonable, if he had any. "Or we can make do with wa..." The word broke in the center on his yawn. "God."

He opened the fridge again, and grabbed the milk, letting his eyes scan over the pictures. It was hard to guess if they'd be more or less creepy in frames. "Milk. Keeps a body strong." He leaned over, grabbed a Parmesan bite that was more garlic butter than bread.

"Something like that," Greg agreed, and he leaned in a little closer to Will, one foot hooking a rung on the bar stool, the other moving closer to Will, rubbing against his leg.

Will snagged glasses and poured before putting away the gallon. "Mmmhmm, I don't know why I was afraid to bring you home."

The duck of that head was a signal, flirtatious and pleased, and he liked it. "Eh. It's always difficult when you introduce someone new to your family."

Mal was the first dog back in through the doggy door, smelling like dust and panting happily. "I think the dogs like you."

"I'm a likable kind of guy." Yeah. Yeah, he was, and Will couldn't help smiling when Mal came wiggling between them, rubbing against Will's legs. He didn't offer Greg any growls or snaps, though, and that. That was interesting.

"He tried to eat Catherine when she came by to read me the riot act." Will nudged Mal gently, petting, stroking, and taking a bite of his pizza.

"Yeah, well. I'd probably try to eat somebody if they came in my house and bitched at my person, too." Reaching up, Greg rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Ugh. Tired, let's... finish up."

"Sugar?" Will asked, chewing around a piece of pizza crust. He had it hiding in the microwave, which wasn't much of a hiding place, but it kept them nice for a couple of days.

"Good a time as any. Milk, vegan cupcakes... pass out?" It was a good suggestion.

"Forks." He scrubbed a hand over his face, and moved slow, tired, tired, god, he was tired and he was feeling it, but that was okay. He was allowed to feel it, so he went through the motions, setting two key lime cupcakes down from the box, and forks.

One bite in, Greg hummed and closed his eyes. "Am I allowed to propose to you over cupcakes or should I wait?"

"I'm very picky about my weird vegan cupcakes." With a graham cracker crunch crust bottom, and curd in the middle, weird gluten free and almond milk. "And, the people I like. I'd say yes."

Huh.

There was a moment when they were both still, and Greg just looked at him and Will looked back and then there was that grin, bright and triangular and Will's heart did a funny triple beat. "Then next time I ask, I guess I should be prepared."

He waved his fork a little. "I don't really... let people go. Entirely. Not in a creepy way, I just. Can't demonize folks, the stuff that makes it easier after."

It was impossible to miss the darted glance at the refrigerator, but Greg didn't look at it the same way Catherine did. "There are worse ways to look at the world."

"I... curate the good memories." He licked his fork, and Mal leaned against Greg's leg, slow and subtle.

"Annnd I'm not parsing what you mean by that, so clearly I should tuck that away to ask about when we're awake again. Yeah?" Yeah, and the doggie door sounded again, Andora rushing across the floor, Winny squirming through more slowly.

"Mm, like a librarian in rare books keeping the mint condition ones available and in good shape." He ate another forkful of cupcake, and slipped carefully down from his stool to get dinner out for the dogs. "And you two are only here for the food, huh?" 

Andora's yap was loud, a bigger sound than anyone would expect from a dog her size. Winny just stood there and panted patiently, and Mal sat beside Will's bar stool and watched Greg. Maybe it was a little suspicious but at least there was no growling. "Nah. I'm pretty sure they like you. Seems reasonable. You're a likable guy."

"I'm the big weird food provider who gives them hugs." Someone who catered to their every whim. Will moved to get out bowls, and carefully made wet food for them. Mal stayed right where he was, but Andora and Winny immediately assaulted their bowls with obvious delight.

When he turned around, Greg was kneeling on the floor beside his bar stool, watching Mal watch him. "Hey, buddy. I'm not here to hurt anything. Promise. You won't need to munch on me, so you can go eat with your friends.

"Food freaks him out." Will made a quiet clicking noise, crouching down by Mal's bowl. "C'mon, come over here and eat buddy. Everything freaks him out except daytime tv."

"Seriously?" Greg stayed where he was, but shifted to sit on the floor. That got Mal's attention, and his ears perked in Greg's direction before he got up to skitter around him, watching as though Greg might move again. "Poor guy."

"His previous owners were abusive. One of them murdered the other in the end. I sort of know how it goes -- he's been hurt pretty bad before, he doesn't trust easily, but he's giving it a good chance and he's happy now." Mal reached his bowl, and Will reached out cautiously, petting the back of his neck gently. "Good boy, yeah. Tasty ripped up chicken and peas tonight, huh?"

Greg didn't get up from the floor, just watched the dogs for a long moment. "Do you always sit and pet him while he eats?"

"Yes. Otherwise he grabs half a mouthful and eats it like a nervous wreck behind the sofa. He does that with his dry food through the day when I'm gone, so I just gave up and leave a bowl of kibble back there for him." He kept up the gentling motion, focused on Mal. Andorra and Winny knew better than to get near Mal during dinner, politely eating their own food. Andorra circled over to Greg when she was done. "Yeah, you're my big brave guy, huh?"

"You're sweet." That was usually the curse of death in most relationships, but there was a look on Greg's face, kind of soft, and Will felt his pulse pick up with something hopeful.

He felt his face turn about ten shades of red, too, flushed and momentarily left flustered, because how  did someone respond to that? "Now I know you're tired."

"Yeah. Just a little, doesn't mean I'm not right, though." He stood slowly and gave a long stretch. "Which way's the bathroom?"

The open floor plan made it easy to point to the corner in the back of the room. "That way. Last door." Of only two, and he was pretty sure the clothes and shoes in the first 'room' would tip Greg off.

Will was still petting Mal when he heard the shower start a few minutes later. It definitely perked his attention, and it distracted Andorra. Winny kept eating and Mal kept enjoying the petting, but Andorra went sniffing after Greg in curiosity. After all, their human was with them, so why the strange noises?

He waited until Mal had licked his bowl clean, and Winny was long done by then. Took the time to gather up the bowls, and rinse them out quickly. The shower shut off, and the door opened after a few moments. "Hey. You coming?"

Greg was naked except for the towel he was rubbing at his hip, and gorgeous, gorgeous and relaxed in the door to Will's bathroom. "Yeah. Let me set an alarm clock."

"I'm guessing the bed's around this way?" One corner of the towel was brought up to rub through his hair. "Hey, Andorra."

"She's found a new forever friend." And was staring up at Greg panting and sniffing at him at the same time. "Just behind this wall. Not a lot of doors around here."

"Not a lot of doors at all." Greg seemed thoughtful about that, head tilted a little. "Hey. C'mere."

"Hmn?" He wandered in closer, still dressed, no alarm clock set yet. Greg was a damp picture of paradise.

Once he was within reach, Greg reached out and pulled him closer, licking his lips before he leaned in and bussed a kiss across a cheekbone. "Let's go to bed."

He smiled, leaned into Greg and slid an arm around him. "Sleep, yes. Lemme get my clothes off."

"Okay."

Okay, and the thing was... it just couldn't be this easy.

Could it?


End file.
